


in your eyes

by wonderstruckxxx



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Smoking, betweenyouandme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:57:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8318266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderstruckxxx/pseuds/wonderstruckxxx
Summary: Jihoon is nineteen when he realizes that he’s always been writing about love, but he has never even had the chance to feel or experience something remotely close to it.





	

Jihoon is nineteen when he realizes that despite writing countless songs and poems about love, of one’s first encounter with the foreign feeling that came with seeing a certain person eye to eye or even from afar, a stranger or a close friend, the thrill and the ecstasy that comes with it, he himself has never experienced the very same feelings that have always amazed him. He’s always been writing about love, when he has never even had the chance to feel or experience something remotely close to it.

The realization came out of nowhere, sitting at his favorite spot in the coffee shop he frequented, trying to get some of his school work done. He was simply going through some of his old works to give him inspiration for a project in his creative writing class. His high school self was very sappy and borderline lovesick, or at least that’s what he thought. Which he now finds funny, because he only ever liked one person back then, a single person who was at the receiving end of his unwanted affection. A single person who became the muse of every song he’s ever written. But everything feels so superficial, now that he thinks about it, nothing but infatuation and intense admiration mistaken for a first love. He only liked the person’s looks and talents, never even bothering to get to know the person. He realizes now, that he had placed that person on a pedestal, not realizing that doing so had created an illusion. And the lyrics and poems he remembers writing, then filled with overflowing emotions seem meaningless all of a sudden. 

He looks around the cafe, at a loss really, because even though this has always been at the back of his mind, he never thought it would have an lasting impact on him. It’s not like he really wants a relationship at the moment, because he doesn’t. He’s far more comfortable with the solitude of being single. It’s just that it’s something big, when he’s always been the one his friends run to for relationship advice, because he’s apparently the rational one and that he seems to know what he’s saying since he’s always writing about love, be it lyrics for a song, random poetry, flash fiction, name it. Most of his life has revolved around writing and more than almost ninety percent of his work is about love. 

Being surrounded by couples had always appeased him, he found inspiration in the variety of love that he randomly encounters. His kindergarten teacher being visited by her very busy husband during lunch time just so they can eat together. His childhood friend’s sister gushing about her first boyfriend. His neighbors who’ve been married for 40 years. Which was why it had never been a problem for him, writing about the kind of love he hasn’t experienced yet. But now he broods, alone in a sea of people huddled up in twos, what is love really? 

He feels like he’s in a daze, as he gathers his things, hoping that a breath of fresh air would help him clear his head. Walking towards the university’s oval for a walk, he puts on his earphones, letting the tunes soothe his conflicted feelings. 

This isn’t something that should bother him, really. It’s nothing. It’s not like he doesn’t have more years in his life to experience those feelings. He does. And the songs he’s been writing are pretty good too, so he shouldn’t be worrying too much. But the thing was, he’s only ever been focused on school and his music, keeping his social life to a minimum. He doesn’t go out of his way to actually meet new people. And he only meets new people through friends. He doesn’t say it, not to his friends, not to anyone at all, but there has always been this creeping worry at the back of his mind, that he may not actually be capable of finding someone, or in more accurate terms, what if no one ever comes to find him? And he wouldn’t even be shocked if that’s the case. 

The walking does calm his mind a bit, the breeze is comforting too, and he somehow forgets, even just for a while.

His moment of calmness breaks when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Seungkwan: jihoon hyung, practice starts in 10! don’t forget again, ok? ^_^

Jihoon sighs, because of course, he hasn’t forgotten. Just last week, Jisoo and Jeonghan had sent him alternatingly alarmed texts, because it had been 30 minutes since band practice started, and he was nowhere to be found. If it had been Seungkwan or Seokmin, they wouldn’t have been bothered, because at some point, the two have arrived to practice even later. Lee Jihoon however was never late to anything. Not to class, not to practices, not to anything. And his absence had bothered them, especially when he hadn’t mentioned anything. He made up an excuse about a meeting for a class project running late, but in reality he was just in dorm room, trying to finish the song he was looking forward to surprising the band with.

Jihoon: yeah, don’t worry, be there in 5

He’s hoping that he’ll finish the song he’s been writing for months, so they’ll be able to use it at the band fest which was 2 months away. But the thing is, there’s something lacking. No matter how much he tried to change up the lyrics, the melody, the beats, the song still wasn’t right. He didn’t understand it at first, but now he gets it. The song doesn’t feel right, because his heart isn’t it. His heart simply doesn’t understand the things his mind is coming up with.

The walk to the band room is short enough for him to take a leisurely pace. When he arrives, everyone’s already there. Seungkwan and Seokmin are engaging in yet another high note battle, while Jeonghan and Jisoo are practicing with their respective instruments.

Jeonghan notices him first, giving him a lazy smile and holding out a brown envelope towards him.

“Jihoon-ah! Kihyun hyung passed by a few minutes ago, wanted to you to have this.”

He furrows his eyebrows at that, Kihyun is one of the hyungs that handed over the band room to them. And he’s also a hyung that he respects a lot. He wasn’t expecting anything from their senior, who was already doing his master’s degree in music and interning at a company, but he takes a peek and sees sheet music with familiar notes. 

“Guys, I think hyung gave us their old songs?” he says, effectively gaining the attention of the four other boys in the room. 

It’s been a tradition for the school to hold a yearly festival where they, together with other school bands from the nearby universities, perform original songs that they’ve written.

“Oh yeah, I remember this one. This was Minhyuk hyung’s favorite,” Jisoo adds, holding the music sheets of Perfect Girl.

Jihoon takes out everything in the envelope, and a small piece of paper with scrawly writing falls to the floor. 

The hyungs are looking forward to seeing you perform this year! I’m leaving this with you in case you needed some inspiration. (And Hoseok was wondering if you could sing one of them for us, for old times sake.)

He smiles at this, touched by the gesture, the hyungs remembering them, babying them even when they’re already busy with living in the real world. He still remembers walking into the band room, just a year and a half ago, immediately feeling at home. And he simply feels warm, comforted.

He sees that the members are feeling the same, all exuding this happy aura that came with the motivation of making their hyungs proud. 

So he stands up and claps his hands, already with a song in mind, “How about we practice Broken Heart then?”

~~~~~~

Only the faint light from his lamp shade and the pitter-patter of the keys as he glides through his keyboard accompany him as his attempts to finish a short story for his creative writing class. Ten pages would’ve been easy enough for him usually, but his professor had set out very specific conditions, all of which were outside of his expertise. The most striking one was that they weren’t allowed to involve a love-line in the story. At first he had thought it’d be easy, he had thought of a lot of other alternate universes waiting to be written after all. But right now, with the deadline inching closer and closer, an hour left to be exact, he might just have to give it up and just submit at a later date. Which sucks really, because he had put off writing it until the deadline, thinking it’d be a piece of cake, only to be dragged down by his lack of inspiration.

There’s been so much going on in his head lately. He still hasn’t finished the song he’s been writing, because he still keeps on remembering the apparent lack of credibility in his work, and it’s getting to him. Writing and producing music has always calmed him, and it always has been a smooth process. But after working tirelessly for the past week, all he’s come up with are wordless melodies.

He’s been restless the whole week, not being able to focus in class and in practice. If people notice, they don’t really ask him why. Because they know he’s only ever expressive in his writing, he isn’t fond of talking about his feelings with other people. He’d rather write about it, on his private blog or in his journal, it doesn’t really matter.

Given his situation now though, he’s in a total deadlock, a complete meltdown, and he feels really empty and lost, creativity and emotion wise. He feels as if he’s getting into an early midlife crisis, where he’s questioning everything about himself that he was so sure of.

At least when he’s on the piano, the drums, or the guitar during practices, he temporarily forgets. Especially when they practice their hyungs’ old songs or cover random songs, because getting lost in the songs that aren’t his is much better than drowning in the reality surrounding the songs he makes. But when he tries to write anything again, he simply goes blank. The words aren’t making sense to him anymore.

He stares at the screen, and knowing he can’t add to his work any longer, he gets up, grabs his keys and a jacket. It’s almost midnight, and he’s pretty sure most of the people in his floor are already asleep. It’s the middle of the school week, and there aren’t any upcoming exams, but believe it or not, the students in his dorm, or at least on his floor, aren’t exactly the going out, partying kind.

And he’s right, because the halls are empty, and the usual loud buzz that came from random chatter has been replaced with a quiet atmosphere that almost feels out of place.

He doesn’t usually go out this late, just during exams season when he would always stay at the only in-campus cafe that ran 24/7. This one isn’t his favorite, but some of his friends work there, and they’re the only one open at this time so Jihoon supposes it’s better than having to keep drinking the instant coffee he has in his dorm room. He heads to the coffee shop, hoping that a warm cup of strong brewed coffee would ease him, temporarily at least. 

The breeze is strong enough that cold air seeps into his jacket, tickling his skin. Autumn has always been his favorite season, especially when the winds carry the fallen leaves, making them dance in the air. When he was younger, he’d always try to catch the leaves that flew the highest, jumping up and chasing them around. With autumn comes the breeze that somehow brings him comfort. 

He finds it amusing how the breeze is carrying some of his worries away. The same thought brings a smile to his face, it’s comforting that at least some things in his life still make sense.

He pushes the door of the coffee shop, and he’s immediately greeted by the soothing scent of coffee. The place is more or less empty, only a few tables are occupied. He heads for the counter to place his order, an ever bright Soonyoung manning it.

“Jihoon-ah, isn’t it a bit too late for you to be here?” the boy eyes him curiously.

“You too, didn’t your shift end like three hours ago?” he shoots back.

The other boy smiles, a bright one that any other person working at twelve midnight would never make, “Junhui’s sick, so I’m covering for him. So what’s up, what brings you here at this ungodly hour?”

“Just needed a boost, you know, papers and all.” he says with a definitive tone, hoping Soonyoung doesn’t ask further.

Soonyoung is Seokmin’s childhood best friend. He met Soonyoung through Seokmin, because Seokmin would bring always bring Soonyoung to band practice whenever the other boy didn’t have dance rehearsals. The two have developed this habit of doting on him, like his parents did when he was younger. They worry about him a lot, and even though they don’t voice it out, Jihoon just knows. Especially when they give each other those knowing glances whenever they feel like Jihoon’s feeling down. After which, they would proceed in tickling him to death or at least they would try to do whatever just to distract him. He appreciates it - always have, always will. But this thing he’s going through now is something he has to handle alone.

And Soonyoung seems to get it, because he doesn’t probe any further. And instead, he proceeds to make the drink Jihoon hasn’t even ordered yet.

Soonyoung hands over a tall Americano, which doesn’t surprise him at all. It’s his usual, and of course, he’s done enough all-nighters at this place that all their baristas remembers the only drink he orders. 

Before he could take out some bills, Soonyoung stops him, “It’s on the house,”

He hesitates a bit, because he’s never been fond of getting free stuff from people, especially since Soonyoung’s already been lectured by the manager just recently for always giving Seokmin and all their other friends too much free stuff. 

And Soonyoung probably notices the apprehension on his face, giving him a reassuring smile, “Just think of it as a late payback for the drink Seokmin stole from you last week, okay?” 

Jihoon just nods, because arguing with Soonyoung is exactly like arguing with his mother, which is something he’s not really keen on remembering doing. So he thanks him instead, giving his friend the warmest smile he could muster at the moment before heading out again.

The air that greets him is a bit colder than it was before he headed inside the coffee shop. Considering the thickness of his jacket, it was only natural that he started shivering. 

He loves the cold weather really, which is why it’s unfortunate that his body isn’t made for withstanding low temperatures. He’s one of those kids who almost always end up getting sick at some point during the late part of autumn or the peak of winter, bundled up in blankets, locked inside the house, watching neighborhood friends play outside through the window in his bedroom. It’s something he had always wished to outgrow, hoping that with age will come a stronger immune system. But no luck, he still gets helplessly sick. Last year, Jisoo and Jeonghan had to take care of him for 3 days straight, because he fell asleep without turning on his heater on the night the temperature dropped drastically. He woke up shivering, chills and a high fever completely holding him down. That was the worst fever he had in years, and it was so bad that the two had almost brought him to the hospital. So naturally, he already knows that if he stays outside for too long, he’ll end up getting sick. 

He grips the coffee in his hands tighter, hoping the warmth from it will at least be enough until he reaches his relatively warmer dorm room. 

He quickens his pace, feeling lucky that he decided to wear one of his thicker sweatpants, because otherwise, he’d have a hard time walking as well, because really his legs would pretty much be popsicles.

The coffee shop isn’t really that far, a 10-minute walk, really, sometimes even less if he brisk-walks. Between the dorm and the coffee shop is the university’s main library. It closes around this time, and he knows some people, including his friends, prefer studying there. Jeonghan used to go on about the rest of them being broke college students who can’t afford to go to coffee shops regularly like Jihoon who’d be at coffee shops at least thrice a week. In his defense, he manages to do so because he’s not an impulsive spender like most of his friends who almost always claim to be broke. Jeonghan and Jisoo often buy clothes and shoes on a whim. One time, Jeonghan bought a winter coat, with a price a week’s worth of his allowance, in the middle of the summer term. The rest of that week, Jeonghan lived on the food he’d managed to squeeze out of them. Jisoo randomly bought a designer backpack on sale and ended up eating ramen for an entire month. The others are guilty of binge eating expensive food at the start of every month, leaving them, Seokmin, Soonyoung and Seungkwan to be exact, with little to no money to spread out for the rest of the month. He, on the other hand, keeps a detailed breakdown of his expenses every month, of course, he’s an accounting major, that’s kind of expected of him.

Also, he frequents the library as well, but for an entirely different reason. 

He rounds the corner of 4-storey complex, sneaking a glance at the backdoor that easily blends into the wall, making it almost hidden. Thinking it wouldn’t hurt to stay out a bit longer, he walks towards it. He went out to clear his head after all, so he might as well. Hopefully, his body has adjusted to the temperature already, and considering that the breeze has weakened from when he came out of the coffee shop, he thinks he’ll be okay. Hopefully, the worse thing he would catch is a cold.

He reaches out to turn the small knob, but he receives the shock of a lifetime when the door cracks open, revealing a boy with dark piercing eyes, a sketchbook in his hand, a blinding timepiece on his wrist, and a lit cigarette between his lips. 

They lock gazes, and Jihoon is met by the deepest, most intriguing pair of eyes he’s ever seen. It’s cliche, he knows it, but the same pair of eyes remind him of the saying that the eyes are the window to a person’s soul, because somehow, in the brief moment he gets see the boy’s dark brown orbs, he already reads several emotions that are not quite difficult to set apart. He sees grief, anger, and bitterness, but at the same time, there’s sadness, regret, and confusion. Matched with long fluttering lashes, Jihoon thinks the boy’s eyes were a melancholic kind of beautiful. The kind of beauty that isn’t supposed to be seen in a person who hasn’t exactly been an adult for too long. A rare kind of beauty that isn’t easy to find, but is saddening at the same time, leaving one to wonder what could’ve been its cause. The complexity of his train of thought surprises him, breaking his reverie, and prompting him to tear away his gaze. 

From his peripheral vision, he sees the boy lift an eyebrow, indifference strewn all over his face. He watches silently, somewhat glued to where he’s standing, watches the boy taking a long drag, dropping the cigarette to the floor, extinguishing it with his foot, and puffing out the smoke through his mouth with a contented look on his face.

Jihoon unconsciously holds his breath, there was something about the boy that really peaked his curiosity, maybe it’s the mysterious aura surrounding him, or simply because Jihoon’s brain in simply in dire need of a distraction. But at the same time, there was something telling him to stay away and just forget that this ever happened. The boy spares him another look, a somewhat calculated one, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, “The place is all yours.”

The boy walks past him, leaving him there to bask in the scent of cigarette smoke and hints of a musky perfume. It’s a scent that stays on his mind, lingering, flitting back and forth, reminding him of those dark brown orbs that hold so much pain and misery that make his dilemma pale in comparison.

~~~~~~

The next time Jihoon sees the boy, he had just finished a grueling accounting exam. He had studied an entire week for it, exchanging sleep for hours of coffee induced trances that had passed by in a blur. For a week, he immersed himself in ledgers, financial statements, journal entries, trial balances, and for the first time in a while, he felt somehow at peace. Amidst the mumbo jumbo of information, he found his calm in the numbers, the constants, the tangible. And for the first time, he felt a tinge of gratefulness for the fact that his major had been accounting, something more mechanical, numbers and all, settling for having creative writing as his minor and music production as his hobby.

He had forgotten about his state of helplessness and unrest. Even the thoughts about the boy whose scent was of stale cigarette smoke and musky lavender, had been pushed to the back of his head. Which is why seeing him face to face, realizing they’d taken the same exam, realizing they’ve been attending the same class for almost two months, is something that catches Jihoon off-guard. 

He’s pretty sure he isn’t the only one surprised by the second-chance meeting. But the other boy is quick to recover, nursing back a blank look. Jihoon wonders what the other boy must be thinking, his curiosity renewed. Which is something new really, because he isn’t the type to be interested in other people’s lives. He doesn’t like meddling, has never been the type to be this curious about another person, even his friends know that he’s the type to just take what’s given to him, never prodding for more. Never asked Soonyoung and Seokmin why they don’t just live together when they’re already like a married couple. Never asked Jisoo why he decided to pass off a chance at an Ivy League school in the U.S. Which is why he doesn’t really get why he’s so curious about a person he knows nothing about, a person he has no business dealing with. And he suddenly feels guilty, for wondering more about this person’s life than his friends’.

They hand over their test papers almost at the same time, and the brief pause in their professor’s part gives him a name to match the face, the eyes, the scent, the deep voice.

Choi Seungcheol.

It’s weird, he thinks. Because he thought a name would be enough to feed his curiosity, but it isn’t. It does the opposite, only fueling it, and he only wants to know more. And he doesn’t know what to make of that thought. He doesn’t really understand. And before he can make sense of his thoughts, the boy walks past him again, leaving a new scent mixed in with the cigarette smoke, something citrusy, orange maybe, and as Jihoon walks to the band room, it’s all he thinks about.

He walks into an empty room, and he easily picks what instrument would suit his mood. He grabs a pair of drumsticks from the drawer and plugs his phone to the speakers. He puts a familiar playlist on shuffle, and guitar riffs fill the empty room. Jihoon plays the drums when he wants to drown out his thoughts. He remembers learning how to play the drums when he was 15, remembers how his younger self wanted something to drown out the thoughts in his head. He’d compare it to how playing the piano calms his thoughts, the way his fingers glide through the keys, bringing the notes and melodies to life. It’s soothing to him. And drumming almost has the same effect, but being instead, the steady and somewhat intense beats and rhythms consume him, and he gets lost in the music. 

But even as he immerses himself in the rock-alternative songs of his adolescence, the scent of cigarette smoke and oranges linger at the back of his mind, even when he closes his eyes to get lost in the music, he somehow sees flashes of those deep melancholic eyes that could only belong to one person. A person who now has a name, which he refuses to use in thought, because using the boy’s name makes things feel real. And using a name is like admitting that he’s really interested in getting to know the stranger that has the same secret place as him. Which makes it not so secret anymore really. He realizes that for a stranger, he actually knows a bunch of things about this Choi Seungcheol.

They’re in the same accounting class, which is only taken by accounting or business majors. Seungcheol smokes, and probably draws too, explaining the sketchpad. And that he holds too much pain in his eyes for someone his age. But then again, Jihoon shouldn’t really be thinking much about the boy. He’s honestly getting creeped out with himself and this irrational and unfounded curiosity. 

He’s still drumming too some Fall Out Boy song when Soonyoung and Seokmin barge into the room, singing a SHINEE song off-key. He doesn’t stop until he finishes the song. The two quiet down, eyeing him with equal amounts of concern.

“Jihoonie, is everything okay?”, Seokmin asks, his eyebrows scrunching up, furrowed in worry.

He mirrors the same look, because how could they even know something’s up when he hasn’t even said anything? They’ve only been in the room for like a minute, and they already know something’s up?

Soonyoung bites his lip, glancing at Seokmin for a bit, searching for reassurance, “Jihoon, you were off-beat the entire time… You’re never off-beat.”

What Soonyoung says shocks him to say the least. Even when he’s stressed out with school or his music, he’s never off-beat. When he played the drums before last week’s practice started, when he couldn’t figure out what to do with his writing, he was on-beat, he knows that for sure, because no one commented then. It’s alarming, that thinking of Choi Seungcheol has this effect on him.He’s more than shocked, but he knows better than to let them see that, as always, the two are worrying over him. And for some reason, it’s really quite something having two people almost your age, even a couple of months younger in Seokmin’s case, treat you like their kid. He notices that they’ve been quite careful with him recently, probably feeling that he’s dealing with some things and is almost too sensitive. 

“I… was just a bit distracted, that’s all. No need to worry about me,” he manages, eyes downcast, hands busy playing with the drumsticks. He knows that soon he’ll be tickled to death, which by now, he doesn’t mind. Especially when his mind is racing, and he feels a different emotion, a different sensation running through his veins, and an unwelcome intruder running through his mind.

He braces himself for attack, but instead, he gets squished in between the two, in an attempt to envelope him in a bear hug.

“Yeah, you won’t tell us, but I guess just know we’re here?”

Jihoon knows, of course. That Soonyoung and Seokmin, despite their tireless antics and endless banters, will always be there regardless of what he’s going through. They squish him tighter, and it gets harder to breathe, but it’s the lightest Jihoon has felt in days.

~~~~~~

The thing about writing that made Jihoon hold onto it for the longest time is that it’s the only way he could freely and properly express his feelings. Jihoon started writing stories when he was 5. His mother still keeps the small notebooks that contain the said stories, their almost undecipherable, his handwriting a mess, strokes unsteady and unsure. He wrote just about anything then, from puppies lost at sea meeting mermaids to cars that want to be trains. But when he thinks about it now, despite the unusual plot choices, his works hold a part of himself, hold the feelings and emotions of his younger self, hold the emotions he couldn’t simply voice out.

Music came a little later, when he was about 6 years old, he learned how to play the piano. He can clearly remember how amazed he was then, randomly pressing keys, awed by the sounds they make. He had piano lessons for 4 years, and soon after, he learned how to play the guitar and the drums. But it was only 4 years ago when writing and music came together for him. Back in high school, it was the perfect way for him to still do the things he liked despite his heavy work load. Making music and writing lyrics, more or less, kept him sane, because his feelings are still expressed somehow. But when he got more interested in making songs, he started outsourcing the feelings, the emotions, the scenarios, because he realizes that there are still so many things he hasn’t gone through. And he thinks now, that he doesn’t do any of these feelings justice, because he hasn’t felt them himself. 

And that’s where the standstill is. Sure, he can still write stories, personal ones, mostly. He still can compose, the melodies and the beats. But at the moment, he still can’t put the two together, he can’t write lyrics. But a voice at the back of his head is telling him to just suck it up and continue what he’s been doing, because in the first place, there’s nothing wrong about writing through other people’s experiences, sure it’s not as authentic as the real feelings, but it’s something. He knows though, why he can’t just continue doing what he used. More than pride, he knows it’s the fear, that he’ll only get used to it, not seeking to feel for himself. Because now, he doesn’t even know what he’s already felt, and he can’t tell if he had actually felt the feeling or he just thought he felt it, whatever feeling it is. He’s 19, and most people his age have probably had almost all their firsts. He hasn’t. And he wonders if that’s the reason why.

It’s cold, but not the kind of cold that seeps through his skin. It’s the pleasant kind, the one that’s not biting but still there. He’s at the library’s rooftop, bundled up in a coat, a blanket laying under him. The sky is clear tonight, and Jihoon stares up at the stars and wonders if he should still make a wish upon them. He lets the familiar melody of a song he’s written not too long ago blare through the speakers of his phone. It’s a song he wrote just a year ago, about the sudden feeling you get when your eyes lay upon the person you like. 

“Nice song,” a person from behind him says, voice too familiar and surprisingly tinged with sincerity.

He whips his head back, almost quick enough to cause a whiplash, because who else could it be. There he was, sketchpad in hand, standing by the door, Choi Seungcheol. There was a soft, unfamiliar look on the boy’s face, and it only adds itself to the long list of mysteries surrounding the him. 

He preens at the compliment, and it surprisingly makes him feel slightly better.

“Thank you,” he whispers, almost inaudible but enough for Seungcheol to hear it. The other boy just nods his head and walks past him.

Jihoon watches as Seungcheol plops himself down near the wall across him. He unknowingly watches the other boy as he takes out some pencils from his bag. He watches as Seungcheol takes in the view of the Seoul skyline, watches as Seungcheol lifts a pencil, watches as Seungcheol lifts his head, prompting him to quickly avert his eyes. 

His song is still playing in the background, the very song that talks about first dates and quickening heartbeats, and really, is his old song actually making sense to him right now? Because he feels his heartbeat quickening and the side of his head burning from Seungcheol’s gaze that he can see from his peripheral vision. He wonders if this is actually the real thing, unlike his stupid series of infatuations back in high school. But he quickly dismisses the thought, because he should really stop overthinking things at this point, it’s what got him into this slump after all.

He distracts himself by getting his writing notebook, scanning it, and looking for some of the notes of the melodies he wrote before. He finds one he dated to 3 months back, something he wrote before autumn started. The melody is for a song he imagined to be accompanied by just a guitar, meant to be mellow, meant to be the melody for a song about falling in love on the first day of autumn, walking in the park, leaves falling around you. 

He remembers sitting at a bench by the school oval, watching as the leaves fell slowly with the weak breeze. He remembers watching couples walk by hand in hand. He remembers not getting to write lyrics to match the melody because he couldn’t find the right words for the scene happening before him. But now, he thinks the melody could also match the calm breeze, the starry sky.

He hums the melody under his breath, re-familiarizing himself with it, his eyes closed shut. Little by little, he thinks he’s feeling the mood of the song. He imagines in the view, feels the breeze, projects the emotions. He hums while he feels, while he thinks. He visualizes the moment under the stars, hoping to mimic the feelings. He sees himself under the stars, same as where he is now, a person seated beside him, close enough to touch, close enough to smell. 

He drops his pen, his notebook, and his eyes fly open. His eyes meet Seungcheol’s again, and his heart effectively stops beating. 

“You okay?” the boy across him asks, his eyes hint a bit concern that overwhelms Jihoon even more.

“Uh- Writer’s block, I guess,” he manages to say after a brief pause. He averts his gaze, looking anywhere but Seungcheol whose eyes still are on him. 

“Ah, I completely understand. Hope you get over it soon, Jihoon-ssi.” .

Jihoon can’t for the love god believe what he just heard, because although he knows the other’s name too, he did not expect the said boy to bother with doing the same. And hearing his name from Seungcheol, with his voice… It does some things to him he can’t explain. He hears Seungcheol chuckle, and it’s a sound that sounds so foreign. And seeing Seungcheol’s eyes crinkle, even just for a brief moment, leaves an impactful image in his mind and he’s pretty sure it’ll stay there for quite some time.

“Don’t be too surprised, Jihoon-ssi. I saw you take a long glance at my test paper, so I thought it’d only be fair to do the same,” Seungcheol’s eyes glint with mischief, and the list of mysteries only grows further.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that, Seungcheol-ssi…” he says, beads of sweat forming on his forehead despite the cool breeze. 

“It’s nice to properly meet you, I guess?” 

All Jihoon could do was nod, because really, what else could he say, when he’s already so tongue-tied and out of words that would make this conversation less awkward than it already is? 

So Jihoon just picks up his notebook and pen, and from his peripheral vision, he sees Seungcheol do the same. They sit in silence for awhile, and Jihoon takes that time to take in what had just happened. Shock is an understatement for what he’s going through. He’s not fond of surprises, but Choi Seungcheol seems to be an enigma for him to figure out. Considering their first two meetings, it’s as if there’s a completely different person in front of him now. He still sees the negative emotions that live behind the other boy’s eyes, but he seems different, less cold. 

He hears a deep sigh of frustration from Seungcheol, and he suddenly finds the strength to ask, “Art block?”

“Yeah, sucks really,” Seungcheol says, frustration lacing his voice, and Jihoon completely understands because he’s been going through a creative block for weeks now. 

He chuckles lightly at the realization, “I just realized, isn’t it funny? I’m an accounting major, and you’re probably a business major, because I haven’t seen you in my other classes. But look at us here, worried about our creative blocks.”

Seungcheol lips quirk at that, nodding in agreement, “I don’t really worry much about my stupid business degree, but you know, whatever pleases my father.”

Jihoon simply hums in agreement, completely understanding, surprisingly pleased by the connection. They sit there in silence, and he wonders if he’ll ever have the chance to uncover more of Choi Seungcheol.

~~~~~~

Thoughts of long lashes and bright crystal-like eyes have kept Jihoon from doing anything productive, creative-wise that is. He’s still on track with his lectures, and he already has a head start on some of his school projects. He’s quite amazed at how he manages to compartmentalize his life this well, really. That despite the turmoil in his head, he manages to do most of the things he has to do.

But his music sheets are still void of any words that will put the song together, and it’s really grating on his nerves. And he notices it’s getting to the other boys too, the air of unrest heavy in their band room. 

“I’m pretty sure I can sing this line better than you,” he hears Seungkwan argue with Seokmin from across the room. 

He’s been seeing how much his mood is affecting the others, but he’s never seen this much of it, mostly lost in his own bubble. But it hurts him to see that it has translated into something like this. 

“Uh- Look, if you want it, then it’s yours, I don’t really mind,” Seokmin says as calm as he possibly could from what Jihoon could see. But it seems to tick Seungkwan the wrong way, because the younger only rolled his eyes in response.

He knows he should go and do something about it, especially since Jisoo and Jeonghan, who usually take care of Seokmin and Seungkwan’s petty fights, are running late for today’s meeting. He really should, but before he could go to them, Seungkwan’s stomping towards him.

“Jihoon hyung, you decide, do you think Seokmin sings it better?” Seungkwan’s eyes are filled with that competitiveness and eagerness to be the best, and Jihoon doesn’t know what to say. Especially when he’s the one who gave Seokmin the part Seungkwan wants. He had distributed the lines early on, when Seungkwan had excused himself from practice. The song was written by their seniors, and it’s one they promised to perform during the band fest which was less than a month away.

He bites his lip in worry, because although he knows Seokmin would understand, the boy’s been practicing this part for a while. And although he knows Seungkwan will do a great job, he’s already set the arrangement to match the older’s voice. And he doesn’t want to lie, but he honestly thought Seokmin suited that part the most, and the part he gave Seungkwan suited the boy the most as well.

And Seungkwan takes his silence, his hesitation as an answer.

“You know what, hyung, I know you think Seokmin’s better. All the time, you give him the parts that I honestly think would suit me more. And you think I’m annoying, even when we’re just the same. Do you hate me that much? What don’t I do right, hyung?”

The younger’s outburst shocks him. There are tears flowing down Seungkwan’s cheeks, and Jihoon simply doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t even notice that he’s tearing up too.

Seungkwan runs out of the room, the door slamming behind him. 

He blames himself, because now he realizes how hard he’s been on Seungkwan more than anyone else. He blames himself for not being able to properly express his feelings. He blames himself, because how can he blame Seungkwan when the boy has done nothing but work hard to reach the standard he asks for. He blames himself for thinking that pushing him harder will only make him better.

He sees Seokmin approaching him, so he shakes his head and gets up. 

He needs some air, because the tension in the room is just too suffocating, making it hard for him to breathe. This was something that’s so out of the blue, but he knows he deserves it, because he’s been too caught up in his own dilemma, forgetting that what he’s done, what he’s doing, affects his bandmates. 

He’s so used to just thinking for himself, and he now realizes that being the leader of the band makes him responsible for everyone. Not just their performances, but the development and emotional welfare of the members. And ever since their hyungs graduated, leaving the leadership to him, he knows he’s done a shitty job. 

He heads for his dorm room, and his mind is messier than it was before. It’s like all the things he’s worked so hard on compartmentalizing just blow up before his eyes. 

He walks as fast as he could, not really minding the rush of students who just came out of their classes. He needs to be alone, maybe to sleep, and hope that when he wakes up, everything will be better. 

He gets to the dorm only to find out he has to climb up 11 flights of stairs since the elevator has been broken for hours now. But he doesn’t hesitate, if only he moves faster, climbing up the stairs with nothing in mind.

His legs are burning by the time he reaches his floor, sweat matting his forehead, tears making their way down his face involuntarily. He walks across the hall, eyes downcast, and he ends up bumping into someone.

“Ah, sorry-” 

“Jihoon-ssi?” 

He looks up, and it’s Choi Seungcheol, eyes filled with worry and something else he can’t really place. It’s a wonder, how seeing the other boy somehow calms his thoughts and mess them up at the same time. Seeing Seungcheol somehow blanks his head, clears it of all other things that don’t pertain to the boy right in front of him. He sees another part of Seungcheol, and he wonders if he’s uncovering more of him. 

It’s a mystery that he can’t bother solving now, not when he’s on the verge of breaking down. 

“Is everything okay?”

His vision is already blurring, eyes rimmed with tears, and that question is all it took for him to start sobbing, chest heaving, and tears streaming down his face. He feels to much all at once, and he hates how weak he seems, but he just can’t stop crying. Through his tears, he sees Seungcheol’s hand nearing his face. And that’s when he feels a warm palm patting his head. 

“I- don’t know what you’re going through but feel better, okay?” 

He nods, wiping his tears away, too overwhelmed to feel embarrassed at this point. He mumbles a soft thank you before walking past the boy, realizing that Seungcheol’s the first person, aside from his parents, to ever see him cry.

~~~~~~

_Jihoon wakes up in the middle of the night - hair sticking to his forehead, breathing labored and heavy, a persistent throbbing in his head, a very vivid dream replaying over and over again in his mind. He tries to level his breathing, but when he blinks, he sees those eyes again, and he could only feel his pulse racing even more._

_Whatever’s happening to him, he truly can’t understand, but what startles him more is the sudden urge to pick up a pen and whatever paper, words suddenly forming in his head. His thoughts, the words, only point to one person, only describe the same pair of eyes, the same deep voice._

_At this point, he should be bothered, but when words are suddenly flowing, words to match the autumn melody he’s written, he can’t even be bothered at the sudden escalation in his feelings. Instead, he lets himself hum the melodies, placing the rhymes, matching the beat. He’s surprised at the sudden flow of inspiration, and the said inspiration coming from a boy he doesn’t even know, only has said a handful of words to._

_So he welcomes the sudden burst of words, and he writes._

~~~~~~

Jihoon’s Sunday mornings are always saved for early walks around the campus. His Sunday morning walks started back in his second week in college, when he started feeling homesick, missing the weekends when he’ll go out with his cousins to walk their dogs, playing around at the park near their houses. It started out as a way to help him lessen the feeling of being swallowed by the distance that’s between him and home, but it’s become some sort of a habit for him now, a part of his weekly routine. He also gets breakfast right after, and then he usually attempts to get some school work done before he gets distracted by the itch to work on his music.

 

He feels better now, at least. He isn’t in full swing yet, but he’s starting to write again, bit by bit. And he welcomes it, welcomes the inspiration and the ideas. Because, maybe, just maybe, there’s something in his life worth writing about now. He finished the song the other night, the one he’s surprising the band with, the one he’s hoping they get to sing at the band fest. He spent the entire night in front of his computer then. After he had completed the words, he immediately booted the arrangement he had already made, recording the song until it was 4 in the morning. 

He’s planning to let the band hear it during rehearsals next day, also preparing an apology to Seungkwan and the rest of his bandmates for being a shitty leader, hoping that there won’t be any awkwardness and that he’ll be able to open up to them more. 

He lets his thoughts steer away from the band for now, instead focusing on the schoolwork he has to accomplish today. He doesn’t think it’ll be difficult, reading through the course syllabus earlier, he knows that the final project presentation for his marketing class isn’t as tedious as it seems and that his accounting final exam won’t be as difficult as the past ones. Both are almost a month away, but he likes having a head start. After all, he never really liked having that voice inside his head nag him whenever he’s doing other things when he still has schoolwork to do. 

The coffee shop isn’t as packed as it usually is, but from where he’s standing, he can see that there’s someone seated at his usual table by the corner near the counter. He usually would be annoyed, but he sighs dejectedly instead, opting for the table right beside it.

He places his bag down, glancing at the table beside him, thinking it’d be nice to glare at the person who took his favorite spot. 

But he rethinks that thought, because it’s Choi Seungcheol. Again. 

“What are the odds, really?” he thinks to himself, all the while, glancing at the other boy’s profile, whose features are scrunched up, working on a familiar accounting exercise.

He doesn’t know how to face Seungcheol now really, and he debates on actually leaving for a different coffee shop. After what had happened a couple nights ago, when he basically bawled his eyes out in front of Seungcheol, he’s not sure what the other thinks of him now. And he really doesn’t want to know, doesn’t even want to be reminded that it happened. 

But instead of leaving, something, some part of him decides to stay, decides to ask, “Need some help?”

The logical side of him immediately regrets it, because they barely even know each other, and he doubts that Seungcheol would even accept help from him. 

“Oh, Jihoon-ssi. Feeling better?” 

His lips quirk a bit, pleasantly surprised at the concern and the positive response. His thoughts wander to the Seungcheol he first met, because the Seungcheol he’s been meeting since then seems like a completely different person, if not for his eyes that tell Jihoon that this is the same person, just somehow different, brighter somehow.

“Yeah. Except someone stole my favorite spot. Again.” he says, teasingly, surprised by this new found courage, not knowing where it is coming from. Because he’s usually more calculated in his actions, never too bold or spontaneous, especially when it comes to dealing with people he isn’t close to. And this? It’s the kind of courage that even alcohol can’t coax out of him. 

Seungcheol laughs, his eyes sparkling, their corners crinkling. The sound is something Jihoon has committed to his memory, something that had already visited his dreams. Looking at Seungcheol right now, like that, brings a different kind of feeling that Jihoon can’t place. It’s new, and he wonders if this is what he’s been looking for.

“Ah, sorry Jihoon-ssi. I don’t mind sharing though? Especially if you’re going to help me with this stupid problem.”

~~~~~~

Jihoon is still in a daze as he walks to band practice, a little disoriented even, his mind fully-occupied by Choi Seungcheol. Teaching Seungcheol wasn’t exactly easy, especially since the boy had an entirely different learning style from him, so it took almost an hour to help him with that one problem. They dropped the formalities right after, with Seungcheol insisting that he called him hyung, after finding out that Jihoon was younger than he was.

Talking to Seungcheol makes him feel a lot of things all at once, and until now, he still feels the overwhelming everything that is Choi Seungcheol. Seungcheol is still a mystery to him, because every single time they meet, he discovers something new about him 

Jihoon doesn’t know what to think of it. But Seungcheol is everything he didn’t expect him to be. And it scares him really, because the things he feels are completely new. He’s never felt the need to stare at someone longer than what’s considered normal, but more than once, Seungcheol has caught him but didn’t say anything. He forgets that he’s staring, which makes it more stressful, because he doesn’t even notice how long he’s been looking. And he’s never felt the constant urge to smile and nod at everything a person says, but with Seungcheol, he just does.

And when thinks of Seungcheol’s habit of biting the tip of his pen, he could only think of it as endearing. He thinks of Seungcheol’s fascination and passion for classic art, and he could only feel admiration, could only listen as attentively as he can while Seungcheol talked his ear off about Renaissance art. Jihoon thinks of Seungcheol, a lot. And thinking of Seungcheol isn’t a bad thing, it’s a good thing, because it prompts Jihoon’s writing. He doesn’t notice at first, but whenever he thinks of Seungcheol, there’s music playing in his head, a song waiting for him to be made. 

He hums this melody while he walks to practice, feeling lighter than he has in weeks, even feeling positive about the misunderstanding he had with Seungkwan. He isn’t the type who easily surrenders during fights, usually waiting it out until the other person apologizes, because he usually didn’t feel bothered enough, not feeling at fault. But now, he feels. He feels guilty and upset at himself for taking people for granted, and he thinks he’s ready to be a better leader for the band, and a better friend for the members. 

The door to the band room is slightly ajar, and from the outside, he could see that all the boys are already there, jamming to an old song he wrote for them. He slips in, hoping not to distract them, a certain kind of warmth greeting him at hearing them play his old song about finding the prettiest words for the prettiest person. Listening to it now, it doesn’t bother him like it did just weeks ago. Because somehow, the words finally feel sincere.

They all turn to him when they finish, and he sees Seungkwan sprint towards him, grabbing him by the waist, and lifting him off the ground.

“Jihoon hyung! Uh, for the other day, I’m not mad. Actually, are you mad? Don’t be mad, okay? I’m sorry!”

He’s still off the ground, and normally, he’d be thrashing now, demanding that he’s put down, but he notices the apprehension in Seungkwan’s voice, so he tries, “I- It’s okay, Seungkwan-ah. I’m sorry too, I guess-”

Seungkwan places him back to the ground, but he gets squashed yet again, four pairs of arms entangled, trapping him in the middle.

“Do you not want me to breathe?” he says, when the arms press on closer.

“We just wanted to take advantage of your good mood, Jihoonie~” Jeonghan says, sending a knowing smirk his way, eyebrows wiggling at him.

“Jeonghan and I saw you yesterday, you know,” Jisoo adds, his tone calm but teasing. 

He closes his eyes, feeling his cheeks burn at the thought of his friends seeing how he is around Seungcheol. He could only imagine Jisoo and Jeonghan giggling from afar, watching how whipped he seems.

“Jihoon hyung, are you blushing?” 

Jihoon wants to hit Seokmin, really. But he can’t because he’s still trapped between everyone. So he makes a wild guess, stepping on the foot by his right. 

“Yah! Hyung, that hurt!” Seokmin whines, breaking the chain of arms around him, giving him a way out. 

He tries to fan his face before anyone else could notice that he was indeed blushing, because he doesn’t need to get teased by everyone. Especially since they all now how Jihoon hasn’t liked anyone since they met him in college, and that of course meant they tried to set him up with people, and that they would jump at any opportunity to tease him with anyone.

Jisoo places an arm around shoulder and says, “So Jihoonie, about Seungcheol?” 

His eyes widen at that, not knowing what to do, because apparently his friends not only saw him with Seungcheol, but they also know the boy. 

“Oh, don’t be so surprised. He was our middle school classmate, okay? We were close, us three, he left when I did. But I kept in touch with Jeonghan, he didn’t contact us.” Jisoo adds, only feeding Jihoon’s curiosity.

“He doesn’t even talk to us anymore,” Jeonghan shrugs his shoulder, lifting an arm to place on Jihoon’s other shoulder.

“He seems to like you though!” Jisoo teased, poking his side with a finger.

“Oh, so is he the reason why you seem really bright, hyung?” Seungkwan asks, wearing that knowing smile of his, the one he uses when he thinks and knows his right. 

“I’m really going to flick all your foreheads, even yours, hyungs! He’s a friend, so really, don’t bother teasing!” 

They all laugh at his outburst, but they let it slip, finally going on to prepare for rehearsals.

He takes a bunch of paper from his bag, lyrics and music sheets. 

“So, I’ve been trying to finish this song, but I’ve only finished it recently. I hope we can sing it at the band fest.” he says, smiling, happy that he’s finally easing himself back to writing. 

He pretends not to hear Jeonghan whisper to Jisoo, “It’s the Seungcheol effect.”

Band practice finish soon enough, with all the boys congratulating him for the song. The members leave one by one, him leaving the last. He had planned to pass by the creative writing department to pass his very late assignment and a poetry project due in less than twenty minutes, then return to his dorm room. But when he rummages his bag for his poetry project, it isn’t there. He realizes he had left it beside his bed when he fixed his bag earlier.

So he runs across campus, calculating in his head. The dorm is about 6 minutes away if he runs fast enough, another 6 minutes back, and he might actually make this deadline. 

His legs burn, but he runs. Because in all honesty, his professor isn’t that strict with deadlines, but he already missed a handful of deadlines, so he isn’t planning on pushing his luck. The elevator’s been fixed, luckily. But he’s panting, and he feels his shirt sticking to his back. He starts running again when he gets to his floor, feeling up his pocket for his keys.

He grabs the small booklet from his bedside table, throwing his things on the bed, and locking the door behind him.

“Jihoon-ah!”

He stops on his tracks, not exactly sure how to place this distraction.

“Oh, Seungcheol-hyung,” he says, scratching the back of his head, the clock in his head ticking, counting down the seconds.

He notices the pizza Seungcheol’s carrying, and despite the timing of the situation, his mind manages to wonder if the older boy is having people over.

“Wanna come in? I have food, you know, to keep me awake while I cram a shit ton of problem sets.” Seungcheol, unknowingly, answers the question in his head. 

And he would come in, if he had the guts to be with Seungcheol, alone. And if he wasn’t supposed to be running to beat a deadline, that is.

“Sorry, hyung! I can’t now, next time, if you want!” 

He’s heart flutters when he sees that the older boy seems disappointed at that, but his mind quickly supplies him with something, “Ah hyung, come watch the band fest, okay? If you have time!”

“Yeah, of course. See you around, Jihoon-ah.”

~~~~~~

One thing Jihoon used to love when he was younger was sneaking of the attic window to lie down at the roof and stare at the stars. He was 11 when he first noticed his neighbor’s son, a kid older than him, lying on their roof. It took a lot of courage for him to actually try it himself, but by some coincidence, the night he decided to do so was night when stars fell, a moment that was completely enchanting to him. He picked up the hobby again when he stumbled upon the door that led to the library rooftop on a busy study night, where he was simply frustrated with everything and had to be alone.

Tonight, he simply comes because he feels like it. It’s colder now, but he feels warm somehow. He somehow gets what his father always said, that cold is partly a state of mind. Maybe in his case, it’s the state of the heart. 

Rehearsals ended early, and the boys had cornered him about singing his song solo. At first, he had refused profusely, stating that he had written the song with the band in mind. But Seungkwan and Seokmin had refused to sing along, and Jeonghan had stolen his place at the drums, handing over the bass guitar to him. In the end, much to the other’s insistence, he agreed to sing solo. 

With a calmer disposition and a spring in his step, he heads for the library. His mind wanders to last week’s bump in with Seungcheol. They haven’t had the chance to talk, aside from the brief hellos when they pass by each other, not even during their accounting class. It’s been hectic, with the exams before the winter break coming up. He knows he could easily walk across the hall and knock at the older boy’s door, but he doesn’t exactly know if they’re close enough to do that. Well on his part, he wouldn’t mind if Seungcheol knocked on his door, but he can’t speak for Seungcheol, so he doesn’t want to impose.

He turns the corner, noticing that the library is buzzing with students already trying to study for the upcoming exams. He pushes the door, but a force opposes his, throwing him off-balance.

“What the- Jihoon-ah?”

A soft smile spreads to his lips. But the smell of cigarette smoke fills his mind.

“Seungcheol hyung, did you smoke?” he asks, because they’ve talked about it before, and Seungcheol has mentioned that he’s been trying to quit.

The older boy looks apologetic, guilty smile and sad eyes. And Jihoon would, could nag. But he chooses not to, not pressing the issue any further.

“Did you eat?” the older boy asks, placing a cold hand on his shoulder, and he feels warm. 

He shakes his head, and the hand on his shoulder moves down to his wrist.

“Ah, come with me then!” Seungcheol says, and Jihoon doesn’t have it in himself to refuse. So he simply nods, letting himself be led by the hand loosely gripping his wrist. 

Jihoon listens as Seungcheol talks about getting an A on his final proposal for his advanced project design class, about the cute dog he walked by the other day, about finishing his latest art project, promising that he’d show it to him one day.

“And, I just talked your ear off. You should really tell me to stop, Jihoonie.” 

He laughs at that, much to Seungcheol’s confusion. Because really, he could listen to Seungcheol talk for days. And he’s happy to hear that the older boy has been doing okay. 

“It’s okay, hyung. I like listening,” he easily replies, smiling, still feeling warm, Seungcheol’s hand still on his wrist. To you, his mind adds. 

They make their way out of the university, and Seungcheol leads them to an unfamiliar street. Jihoon’s eyes immediately light up at the sight, food stalls filled the street. And he takes in the sight of ddeokbokki and soondae, feeling excited to start digging in.

“So with that look, I’m betting you haven’t been here,” the older boy teased, poking his cheek.

He shakes his head and tugs the hand on his wrist to walk towards the nearest stall. The hand slides down, gripping his smaller hand, pulling him back.

“Ah, nope. My favorite stall’s in the back, Jihoon-ah, patience.”

He’s too distracted to protest, his eyes trained on the hand firmly gripping his, affection flooding his heart. The butterflies in his stomach going crazy. They walk the length of the street, hand in hand. Only stopping when they reach the second to last stall on the street. 

“Oh, Seungcheol-ah, you finally brought a friend!” 

The old lady, who Jihoon assumes to be the owner of the stall, smiles at them brightly and seems to know Seungcheol quite well. 

“Ah~ Mrs. Kim, Jihoon here would think I don’t have friends,” Seungcheol whines, and Jihoon finds it cringy, but adorable all the same. 

“But it’s true, you haven’t!” Mrs. Kim says, laughing and messing up Seungcheol’s hair endearingly, “I’ll just bring your food, take a seat.”

Seungcheol thanks the older lady, handing over the money without a word.

“Yah, hyung! I want to pay,” he says, not noticing the pout on his lips. 

Seungcheol pinches his cheeks with both hands, “Let hyung pay, just pay next time, okay?”

He rolls his eyes, and Seungcheol just laughs at him, eyes crinkling. They sit by the table nearest the stall. And Jihoon wonders if this was how dating works, except that for this to be date, they had to be dating. But they aren’t. Maybe Seungcheol really does this with his friends, the three boys he saw Seungcheol walking with a few days back. But he remembers the old lady saying that he’s the first person Seungcheol has brought here, ever. And does that mean they’re coming back, since there’s a next time? His mind is racing, again. He really should stop overthink this, but he can’t help but do so. Especially when Seungcheol seems to be full of mystery and is very hard to read.

The food arrives, and he doesn’t even notice. Not until at piece of ddeokbokki was hovering by his face.

“Say ah,” Seungcheol says, eyes bright, tone teasing. 

He fights the blush threatening to bloom on his cheeks. He feigns annoyance and rolls his eyes, but he still opens his mouth for the food, because he isn’t exactly annoyed and is mostly surprised with how Seungcheol is treating him. 

The food is good and so is the company. They laugh about anything and everything. Jihoon notices even more of Seungcheol’s quirks. He notices the way Seungcheol bites the tip of his straw, gnawing on it when he’s listening. He notices how Seungcheol uses his right hand mostly, but he uses his chopsticks with his left hand. He notices how Seungcheol’s eyes twinkle whenever he talks about anything he likes, from art to dogs, it’s the same. 

They don’t notice the time, not until Mrs. Kim reminds them, “Kids, go back to your dorms, it’s almost midnight.”

“Ah, thank you Mrs. Kim. The food was very good,” Jihoon says, bowing towards the older lady as politely as possible. 

She reaches out and ruffles his hair too, “No problem, Jihoon. Any friend of Seungcheol’s is like a kid of mine too.” 

Jihoon watches as the older lady hugs Seungcheol, even hearing bits of their conversations, of Mrs. Kim reminding Seungcheol to eat properly and take care of himself. He smiles at the heartwarming sight, realizing that all he’s been doing that night is smile at everything Seungcheol does or says. 

“Let’s go?” Seungcheol says, hand reaching out again, prompting a confused look on Jihoon’s face. 

But Jihoon still doesn’t bother asking, just goes with the flow. They walk in a comfortable silence, the breeze getting stronger, but Jihoon still feels warm, now that he’s arm to arm with Seungcheol.

“Coffee?” 

He answers by squeezing the hand in his, and he lets Seungcheol lead him to the coffee shop in campus, realizing belatedly that some of his friends worked there. 

“Welcome to Ho- Yah, Lee Jihoon!” 

He visibly cringes, because of all nights, Soonyoung has taken Junhui’s shift again. He can take Junhui, because Junhui will simply raise an eyebrow and probably smirk at him. But Soonyoung. Soonyoung will make a big deal out of it.

He directs his best glare at Soonyoung, noticing that Seungcheol’s hand only grips his tighter, no signs of letting go. He tries to send a telepathic message to Soonyoung, to back the hell off, because he doesn’t even know what’s going on with him and Seungcheol, and he doesn’t want to mess things up already.

Somehow, thankfully, Soonyoung gets it, “What can I get you?” 

“Two Americanos, tall, to-go.” 

Seungcheol beats him to it, and apparently remembers that the thing he gets a lot is the Americano. And again, Seungcheol beats him to it, letting go of his hand to reach out for his wallet. Seungcheol hands over his card, a black card that has both Jihoon’s and Soonyoung’s eyes popping out of their heads. 

They don’t say anything, but their eyes narrow at the black card. That says one thing about Seungcheol that he didn’t even know yet. 

“Hyung, you told me I’m paying next time,” he says, voice weaker than before, now realizing why Seungcheol had refused to let him pay. 

But he still wanted to pay, because he doesn’t like getting free things. Once is okay, he guesses. But he gets uncomfortable after the first, even if it’s from someone who owns a black card. Even if it’s from Seungcheol, maybe even especially from Seungcheol.

“And I told you, next time. Not tonight, okay?” Seungcheol says, firm but still somehow soft. And Jihoon doesn’t know what to say to that.

Soonyoung hands over their drink minutes later, with Soonyoung mouthing that they would talk the next day. 

They go out and the breeze is much stronger, and Jihoon feels a shiver down his spine. He holds his coffee with his left hand and blows warm air into his right. 

“Cold?” Seungcheol asks, not waiting for a reply, he takes Jihoon’s free hand and places it inside his coat pocket, gripping it much firmly this time.. 

Jihoon feels a blush creep to his cheeks, both from the crisp breeze and Seungcheol. Because at the point, he doesn’t know what the older boy wants from him, what he thinks they are. Because he’s pretty sure friends don’t hold each other’s hands for prolonged periods of time. And Seungcheol’s been holding his hand since they left the campus. The butterflies are back, and he hopes Seungcheol can’t feel his pulse racing, because he feels it in his fingertips. 

They walk like that, quietly at first, up until Seungcheol starts talking again.

“Jihoon-ah?”

He looks up at Seungcheol, seeing a new set of emotions written on the boy’s face. He looks content, happy even. But there’s something Jihoon can’t place, something he can’t put a name on. 

“Hm?”

“Thank you for coming with me tonight.” 

He smiles, brightly this time, his eyes disappearing to form small crescents, “Any time hyung.”

Before he knows it, their time together runs out, and they’re back at the dorm. They both hover, and Jihoon waits it out, because he doesn’t want to do anything that he’ll end up regretting. He wants to say something, but Seungcheol beats him to it, pulling him close, arms firmly wrapped around his waist. 

His breath hitches in his throat, his face buried in Seungcheol’s chest. He breathes in, and it oddly feels like a goodbye, the kind that implies a parting that lasts for a very long time. And it only prompts him to bury his head further, inhaling Seungcheol’s scent, trying to memorize every detail.

He feels lips press on his head, and he feels his heart drop to his stomach. He feels his knees go weak, and he feels, feels everything. 

“Cheol-hyung, I think I like you.”

Seungcheol loosens his grip and looks him in the eye, and Jihoon finally realizes what he saw. It’s regret.

“Jihoon, don’t. You can’t, not me.” 

And when Seungcheol walks away, Jihoon thinks his heart breaks right there and then.

~~~~~~

That night, every single moment of it still lingers in his mind, like poison threatening to ruin him. The scent he took on to remember by detail, the hands that he still feels on his palm, the eyes that still haunt him, even when he closes his eyes, even when he sleeps. The things that he helped him find himself, to find inspiration, are now the things that cause him pain.

Because his life isn’t a fairy tale, and happy endings aren’t for everyone. Jihoon wonders if it’s possible to live without a heart, because it’s been three weeks, and Seungcheol is nowhere to be found. 

He’s gone to ask everyone, visited all the places he used to see the other boy, but he’s nobody has told him something that would help him find Seungcheol. Every single day he tries, but it seems like he’s going nowhere. He finds Seungcheol’s friends, but they’re as lost as he is.

And during the band fest, he waited. He searched the crowd for Seungcheol, hoping that he would at least keep his word, hoping that he’ll get to hear the song written for him. But he doesn’t come, doesn’t show himself. And Jihoon cries backstage in Seokmin’s and Soonyoung’s arms. He could've accepted the rejection if Seungcheol flat down told him that he doesn't feel the same way, but this, not showing up, not answering calls and text, is too much.

Jihoon’s looked everywhere, has done almost everything, even begging Jisoo and Jeonghan to help him, because even though it’s been a while, they at least know things he doesn’t.

“Jihoonie… Seungcheol is, how do we put it?” Jisoo looked apprehensive, so it’s Jeonghan who continues, “Seungcheol comes and goes, Jihoon. When he came here this semester, we didn’t understand at all, but now we know why.”

If anything, it confuses him even further, but he urges them to continue, because he used to believe that ignorance is bliss, but it’s Seungcheol who changed that in him. And he thinks bitterly, that if he had ignored his curiosity then, he wouldn’t be like this now, wouldn’t feel so upset and broken.

“Seungcheol’s family has been messy since we we’ve known him. I briefly remember my mom saying that people took him away from his mother, that’s why he left then. It’s only recently that we found out... “

He holds his breath when Jeonghan pauses, because he doesn’t know if he’s ready to hear what they’re going to tell him. He’s not ready to hear what they have to tell him, because he knows either way, it’ll only break him.

“I heard from my father that Seungcheol is going to take over his father’s company, Jihoon. That he’s going to a business school abroad, and that there are rumors about an arranged marriage.”

He feels the sting in his eyes, and the tears start falling uncontrollably. Is this what heartbreaks feel like? Because he feels broken. He feels foolish, stupid, for letting himself feel, for letting himself fall for a person not capable of catching him.

“He came here to run away, spite his father, but I think they’ve caught on,” Jisoo holds his hand and lets him cry. 

He doesn’t know what to do, because there’s nothing else left for him to do. Because what was he to Seungcheol? Does Seungcheol think he can come and go as he pleases? Come and go, breaking his heart in the process? Jihoon feels used, betrayed. Jihoon feels exhausted, emotionally and physically. But then he remembers Seungcheol, his beautiful eyes, the pain they hold now making sense. He hurts, but he realizes Seungcheol’s probably been hurt so much more. He wonders if Seungcheol had been happy with him even just for a while, wonders if he’ll ever feel the same way. So he cries, hoping that he can manage to live with a hole in his heart.

~~~~~~

The song playing on the radio is all too familiar, after all, it’s his debut song as a songwriter.

He still remembers when he wrote it, alone in his apartment, a 6-pack long gone, drunk out of his mind. A year out of college, months into his boring desk job at an entertainment company, it’s the first time he hears about Seungcheol, who, according to the news reporter on TV, had finally graduated from a business school abroad and is set to come back in Korea to take over Choi Enterprises, despite being a lovechild. 

All those years in college, he spent wondering if Seungcheol would magically come back for him, knock on his door and envelope him in his arms. He spent those years juggling hatred and longing, anger and love. All those years spent writing songs about pain, about waiting, about Seungcheol. 

 

It’s been 2 years since he started writing songs for Pledis, 4 years since he graduated, and 6 years since he last saw Seungcheol in the flesh. He’s picked up the shattered pieces of his heart, slowly mended it by himself, through his music that a lot of people seemed to relate to, still up on the charts. 

He sometimes wonders if Seungcheol has heard them and realized what pain he had caused. Because everything he had gone through are in his songs. Every bit of feeling, of pain, are embedded in the songs that are sung by people he barely even knows, and are heard by people who don’t even know who he is.

He wonders if Seungcheol still thinks of him, because for the longest time, despite being set-up on dates by his friends, he never really found anyone else. But his friends have been nothing but patient with him, despite being busy, they were always there when he wanted to drink away his feelings.

The past six years have been eye opening, and he has forgiven Seungcheol, because that was the only way he could accept that there was once a star in the sky that came down for him to meet, a star that shone so brightly, lighting up his life, a star that had left and is now too far for him to reach. 

The phone in his front pocket rings, breaking him out of his reverie. He clips on his bluetooth headset and answers the call.

“Jihoon hyung, are you coming?” 

It’s Seungkwan, and he’s suddenly hit by a wave of nostalgia. Remembering how it had always been Seungkwan who’d call tobremind him about being late to band practice.

“Yah, I told you I am, I’m very near actually.”

He glances at the GPS, the target destination is two minutes away. 

“Good, we’ll see you then, hyung.”

The call is dropped before he could say goodbye, but he guesses Seungkwan is just really busy. Seungkwan has been one of the event planners handling the grand opening of an art gallery in Seoul, and he has been invited to it. Usually, he’d say no, but Jeonghan and Jisoo had insisted, saying that Seungkwan had invited all their friends, and he’d be the only to not go if he doesn’t, even Seokmin and Soonyoung are coming, arriving in time from their Europe backpacking trip.

So he relents, always soft when it comes to his friends. Which is why he’s driving across the city, wearing a suit and a tie that he despises.

His mind always betrays him, because now it wanders back to Seungcheol. Remembering how much Seungcheol wanted to do art, how he loved every bit of it, how he’s a completely different person when he talked about it.

He’s lying if he says he’s stopped feeling, thinking. Because he hasn’t. It’s been 6 years, but he still feels the same, still see those dark brown orbs when he closes his eyes.

The GPS beeps, signalling that he has arrived at his destination. The building is two storeys tall, all sleek lines and glass. People are already coming in and out when he gets there. The place is buzzing, and he sees some familiar people, shakes hands with some of the people he had worked with. He’s used to people recognizing him, but he notices some reactions that he can’t seem to find a reason for. People he’s never met, people coming out of the gallery area were smiling at him fondly, and he doesn’t know why.

But then he steps into the room and gets his answers. 

It’s him. In different angles, in different settings, in different lightings. 

It’s him on the rooftop, stars covering the skies above him. It’s him at the coffee shop, papers surrounding him. It’s him in front of his dorm room, his back turned away.

His mind races, because six years is a long time, but he still remembers every bit of the moments strewn across the walls. He wanted to forget, but he never did. His heart still yearns for the fleeting moments that were beyond his reach when Seungcheol had left. 

His vision blurs, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Because in the midst of everything, the crowd, the flashes, the noise, there is Choi Seungcheol.

**Author's Note:**

> happy jicheol day!!!! 
> 
> wow okay, I honestly can't believe I was able to write a long fic, in less than two months at that, but I guess jicheol makes me do and feel things that I haven't done or felt? although I think I'm not yet done, so I might just randomly post a sequel? or some short fics in the same au? 
> 
> anyway, thank you for reading!!! #jicheolislife
> 
> (also hmu on twitter!!! @_halcyonelixir)
> 
> (and thank you to my friends who tirelessly listened to me whine about finishing this fic <3)


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